


Post-Mortem

by Kithri, themanwhowas



Series: Mixed Signals [3]
Category: Worm - Wildbow
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-12-21 03:49:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11935713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kithri/pseuds/Kithri, https://archiveofourown.org/users/themanwhowas/pseuds/themanwhowas
Summary: The heroes of Brockton Bay are waiting for their comrades to return from the Simurgh fight at Canberra, when Astrid senses a door open unexpectedly. Naturally, she goes to investigate.This is a mutual crossover between Mixed Feelings and Completely Unoriginal, set after the canon end of Completely Unoriginal.





	Post-Mortem

I reached the end of the page and realised I hadn’t taken in a single fucking word. And that had been my second attempt. I contemplated that maybe the third time was the charm but, after a moment’s consideration, I set the book aside, casting my gaze around the Protectorate rec room. Under other circumstances, I would’ve been awed to be here. Nervous, maybe, if I was honest. Now, though, the only thing I felt was a queasy mix of dread and anticipation.

Had we lost anyone?

No, not lost.

Had that winged bitch taken anyone?

The thought drove me to my feet in a surge of nervous energy, my metal enfolding me with barely a thought.

“I’m going for a walk,” I said, to no one in particular. My voice sounded muted and distant, as did the scattered handful of hushed acknowledgements I received. Maybe it was all the fucking feelings in the air.

I’d almost made it to one of the balconies when I sensed something that stopped me in my tracks. Deep inside the Rig, a door had opened. And not just any door.

Before consciously deciding to move, I was already striding through the corridors, taking the fastest route towards my destination. It was only when I was standing outside the vault-like door to the lab, my finger on the comms button, that it occurred to me that I probably should have called this in. But then a voice came over the comms; just a single word.

“Enter.”

It was Armsmaster’s voice.

The door swung open and I — dazed, reeling — stepped through into the lab, where a familiar figure was waiting. Armsmaster looked… Well, frankly, he looked like shit. His armour was battered to hell, one panel a conspicuously different colour to the rest of it. He was facing a workbench, one hand tracing the contours of an unfinished-looking halberd.

“Sir?” My voice was tightly controlled. “I wasn't aware you'd returned.” I hesitated a moment before plunging onwards. “There were rumours you'd been... injured.”

No, not injured. Killed. But I couldn’t bring myself to say it; couldn’t take the risk that speaking the words aloud would collapse the world around me, replacing it with one in which rumour was truth.

A breath went by; two, three, and then he finally turned to face me. His lips tightened briefly and then he sighed; a weary, mournful sound. It was nothing I’d ever heard from him before, but I knew exactly what it meant.

Someone wasn’t coming back from Canberra.

He cleared his throat.

“There will be an official report soon enough.” There was something off about his voice. Just the unexpected emotion, or something else? “But if you close the door behind you, I'll tell you the truth. You deserve that much.”

Armsmaster was going to break infosec?

_Fuck. This is going to be bad._

I did as ordered, coming back to stand to attention in front of him. He seated himself on a reinforced bench, slumping a little as he sighed heavily, somehow seeming ten years older. When he spoke, his voice was ragged around the edges.

“The day before yesterday, Fax gained his final charge in the Butcher. Today, he was killed by the Simurgh.”

He cradled his face in his hands. Or, tried to... his visor was in the way. He fiddled with it as I tried to process his words.

“Butcher, Sir?” Habit made me ask, concealing the fact that I already knew the reason I and the other Wards had been forbidden from associating with Fax. And then the second part hit me like a punch to the gut, my breath catching in my throat. It felt like my next words were torn out of me, emerging as a breathy wail. “Wait. Fax is… dead?”

“No,” Armsmaster corrected me, his voice leaden. “I said he was killed.” Without another word, he lifted off his helmet to reveal eyes full of exhaustion and heartbreak. Nevertheless, he tried to smile as he said, softly, “Hey, Becky.”

“Oh,” I breathed, understanding breaking over me like a wave as I studied his face, his posture, his every movement. My armour peeled back as I stepped forward. “Chris?”

His eyes glittered damply in the light, the attempted smile fading away.

“In the flesh.” His voice hitched slightly. “So to speak.”

I swallowed against the lump in my throat.

“So… So Armsmaster is… gone?”

Armsmaster’s… No, Chris’ smile faded, his eyes closing. He seemed to sag in place, like a puppet with its strings gone slack.

“Bits and pieces remain. Feelings, reactions, reflexes.” His eyes opened again, focusing on me. The smile came back, the expression seeming almost fond. “He liked you, you know. Respected your discipline and drive.”

A pang went through my chest; pain and pride mixed.

“I like…” _No, past tense._ “I liked him, too.” I found the corners of my own mouth turning up, a little. Maybe it wasn’t appropriate, but I couldn’t stop myself from saying, “At least he knows… knew… how to give a proper fucking order.”

Chris made a small gesture, like a shrug.

“I’m not in your chain of command, but... I think it would be best if you didn't tell anyone. The public story will be that he sacrificed his life to save me. Nobody needs to know exactly how.”

“No, I…” I shook my head. Nodded. Frowned. “You’re right. I won’t say anything.” A question burned inside me; an urgent need to know. I fumbled for the right words to give it voice. “Was he… Did he know? What would happen?”

Chris’ answering grin was rueful; wry. “Yeah, he knew, the bastard. Took it upon himself so nobody else would get jacked on accident. Shouldn't have told him that would happen... although I suppose it would have happened anyway. Fucking Simurgh.”

“It's fucking weird, hearing you swear, Sir,” I muttered, and then froze, stricken. “Damnit. I mean, it's strange hearing you swear like that when you look like him.”

Chris winced. “It's even weirder on the inside.” To my surprise, his grin returned then, a bit mischievous, absolutely fucking alien on that face. Which then went dead serious. In a voice of pure command, he declared, “I am... The Fartmaster.” And managed to hold his serious expression for all of three seconds before bursting into laughter.

I felt my mouth drop open, my eyes practically bugging out of my head in shock and outraged.

“You can't fucking do that!” My voice emerged high and scandalised. “That’s… It's disrespectful!”

He just chuckled, the bastard, wiping a tear from his eye.

“Yeah, he... he didn't like that one bit. I suppose I should change before it gets any worse.” He glanced at the nearest monitor, suddenly wincing slightly. “You mind sticking around a bit? There's a conversation I want to put off as long as I can.” He didn't wait for my reply before his features started shifting.

“Sure,” I said softly, belatedly.

It took only minutes, but he kept glancing at the monitors, tension clear on his face even as it changed shape, more beard growing in to fill the evenly trimmed parts Armsmaster hadn't worn.

“In another universe, Armsmaster and Dragon would have been lovers,” he said softly, almost to himself. He didn’t seem to see the way my jaw dropped once again at that revelation. “How do I... I can’t…” His costume change was abrupt, armour disappearing, Fax’s outfit appearing in its place.

“I think I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that,” I muttered, shifting uncomfortably. He didn’t seem to hear.

Eventually, there was just Fax. A full head taller than he had been, but given I’d seen him ten feet tall before — and breathing fire — that wasn't that shocking.

He stood, sighed. “I should probably be alone for this. But... I'm sure there'll be some sort of announcement. I'll probably see you there.”

I nodded. “Okay.” I started to turn away, but some instinct made me turn back, stepping in to put a hand on his arm. “I’m glad you're not dead,” I said quickly. “And if you need to talk, or something, well, you know how shit I am at that kind of thing, but I’m willing to listen.” I managed to scrape up a smile from somewhere. “Maybe over queso?”

His answering smile actually reached his eyes, and he seemed genuinely touched.

“Thanks, Astrid. I appreciate it.” And then he tuned to the video screen.

This conversation was clearly over. I didn’t envy him his next one. If what he’d said was true…

_Poor Dragon._

My own heart aching in sympathy, I drew my armour around myself and took my leave. Without a destination in mind, I ended up walking through the corridors in a daze.

Armsmaster was… was dead. But Chris was alive.

And I… I was…

Fuck.

_Too many fucking feelings._

**Author's Note:**

> This is a collaborative effort with themanwhowas to continue the surprisingly workable crossover between our stories. Interactions between Fax and Astrid are fun to write, if often rather tense.
> 
> As always, working with themanwhowas has a genuine pleasure. His story, [Completely Unoriginal](https://forums.spacebattles.com/threads/completely-unoriginal-yet-another-cyoa-si-mc-in-brockton-bay-complete.526825/), is both a good read and has the distinction of being one of the few Wormfics to actually be completed. Check it out!


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